Why
by Amaranthyn
Summary: He bit his lip. Was this a good idea? No. No idea he had was ever good. They always managed to fail him; no matter how long, how thoughtful, how brilliant his plans were, they always failed. An unforeseen hand always got the better of him, allowing his decent into darkness fall quicker with every failed attempt.


He bit his lip.

Was this a good idea? No. No idea he had was ever good. They always managed to fail him; no matter how long, how thoughtful, how _brilliant_ his plans were, they always failed. An unforeseen hand always got the better of him, allowing his decent into darkness fall quicker with every failed attempt.

All he wanted was to save his home. He figured this was going to be a suicide mission anyway; he's only fourteen after all, tasked with taking back a planet from a race of over six billion. Who in their right minds though that _that_ was a good idea?

Then again, he was never in his right mind.

Was he ever in his right mind? No; perhaps not. He was always a bit more insane. After watching his mother parish in front of him, you could say he grew more distant. He retreated from the rest of society; his foster family, including his foster brothers whom he was closest with, hardly ever saw him. He would hide in his room and brood. He would torture his mind with thoughts, guilt, and pleas over death.

" _Mother wasn't ready to go. I'm not worthy enough to live. Take me instead."_

A sigh passed through his pale lips. Goose bumps littered his arms as his bony fingers grasped his sai. The silver blade kissed his marred skin; the shock of the metal sent a wave of nostalgia through him. Oh how has he been in this position many times before…

But he's determined to make this moment extra special. He would go through with the deed. He would stop being the coward he was and face reality like a man.

Curious though, what is reality any more? Is it the fantasies that more-often-than-not plague his head? Is it the one where the pink-haired savoir of this planet declaring her unbridled love for him? Or perhaps the dream where he saves both his race and his enemies; the one where he saves he and makes her realize that she needs him more? No… His reality is here; the one where the weapon is about to slice his skin. This reality is the one where none of his fantasies are real; where the cruel world that exists outside of him denies him even the smallest of happiness.

This should be easy. Well, it both should be easy, really. It should be easy to take back a planet from a bunch of defenceless humans; they're killing themselves anyway. They're destroying the planet they proclaim as their own as if it were less than dirt. However, because of that stupid girl and her stupid friends… They make his life so much more worthless than it already is. The other task should be amplified with easiness because of it. But no, it isn't. Everything is just so hard for him to complete…

The sai drew away from blemished skin, relaxing in the hand of the beholder. Amber eyes glared darkly at it; they swirled with untold emotion and story. They held such darkness and sadness, hardly an ounce of love or joy left in them any more. Any mood-enlightening thought was overpowered and brutally beaten by the bigger, tougher negative thoughts that dominated him.

A long hiss blew through his sharp fangs; said fangs bit roughly into the soft skin of his lips again. A sense of aggravation filled his soul as he found himself unable to finish the deed.

Just why couldn't he do it? Why can't he just finish the task that life has been leading up to this moment? Why did the universe make him such a coward that he couldn't take his own life despite everything prompting him to?

His brothers didn't care for him. They were too busy pleasing Deep Blue-sama. They had each other anyway; he wasn't related by blood whilst they were. His enemies didn't care for him. Why would they? He threatened to kill them on multiple occasions. The only one he could ever call "Mom" didn't care for him. If she did, why would she leave him all alone like this then? So broken and beaten, just wanting someone to hear his silent screams. _She_ never cared for him. _She_ has her perfect boyfriend, perfect life. _He_ was the one who ruined it for her though.

To sum it up; no one cared for him. No one cared if he lived or die. Perhaps he would be more memorable if he died in an epic stand-off with some great foe for the greater good. Substantially, the only applaud he'll get for going this was would be "glad you're gone" parade.

His amber orbs of despair pricked with burning sensations as something began to collect. It blurred his vision, messing up the sight of his scarred arm in front of him. It was almost comforting; not being able to see your past mistakes… And the future ones.

He drew the sai back towards his arm. His fingers trembled, the blade nearly tumbling from his grasp.

Nervousness filled him to the very brim. Why was he so nervous all of a sudden? Of all the things he had to be nervous, why did it have to be this? Is it because he was scared? No… it couldn't be. Why would he be scared of this while he's done more terrifying things in the past? Then why did his fingers threaten to release the weapon from their shaky hold? Did he really not want to do this? Was he being a coward? Despite all the signs, all the edging life was giving him, was he too much of a coward to go through with this?

He was a fucking coward – no wonder everyone wanted him dead…

He could never go through with this; that's why life was taunting him with this. It knew he was too much of a coward to. But he was determined to prove everyone wrong. To prove to everyone he wasn't a coward he even gets to see his mother again too. She would be proud of him, wouldn't she? To see that her son grew up into someone who wasn't a coward?

But _she_ wouldn't be proud of him, would she? That's probably the reason why she chose that stupid boy over him. He was brave, smart, and handsome; on the other hand, she has this psychopathic killer who's too much of a coward. It's obvious why she wouldn't want him; it's obvious to see why she would relish in the thought of him dying. He bet that she would dance on his grave – if he even got a burial – in glee; tears would be in her eyes, yes, but they would be tears of utter joy.

Something brushed up against his leg. It was soft; so subtle. It was almost as if it weren't there – but he felt it; it was there and it brushed against his leg. Cautiously, he tore his blurring vision away from his trembling wrist. He looked down at his leg, vaguely recognizing the thing that dared to interrupt him.

Green colonies of life clung desperately to the thick brown arm that scarcely held onto them. They danced and mingled with one another, offering a soft rustling lullaby to the world to hear, had they be careful enough to listen. They caressed his leg yet again as they tried to grasp onto the limb.

His amber eyes narrowed in confusion.

Why were these leaves distracting him? Was it because, dare he say it, they didn't _want_ him to go through with this? No… Impossible. Leaves don't have an intelligent mind of their own to comprehend what he was about to do. In fact, he dying would only serve to help in their growth; his body would rot and decay, as no one would ever care to look for him. The tree would absorb whatever nutrients it could from his useless carcass, not caring that he was just once a boy who felt utterly and completely hated and alone.

The leaves caressed his leg so gently again. The tears that burned his eyes threaten to spill as he gritted his teeth in frustration.

If the leaves didn't care, then why are they still distracting him? Perhaps it was the wind, as it was blowing the leaves around. Was the wind trying to use the leaves for its distraction so it could hug him? To reassure him that everything was going to be okay? No… that couldn't be it either. It was already whipping and lashing at his partially exposed body. It sent aching throes throughout his entire body as it continued to rattle him.

But he barely felt it. He was used to pain and abuse…

Then why was the wind stopping him using the leaves? Nothing made sense any more. If life was so adamant on making him kill himself, why send messengers to make him stop? Could it be that life was guilty? That life didn't think he was actually willing to go through with such a distasteful deed? Was it trying to say sorry and that it didn't want him killing himself?

Whatever the reason, he was going to go through with this. That fact was final, he decided. Why live if the only thing he would be living for is life? Nothing on either planet of his meant anything to him any more. He had no ground to the worlds he loved and hated. They only women he ever loved were his mother and _her_ , but they both chose to leave him, to break his heart.

He was tired of being in pain. He just wanted it all to end. He was tired of having to stitch his own wounds, to kiss his own scratches. _She_ didn't even _care_ that every strike she lashed out at him would take forever to heal. _She never even dared to think_ that _every word_ of _hatred_ would help tear open a hole in his heart that would _never heal_. But why would she? He's her enemy; you're not supposed to care for the enemy.

Then why did he love her so much? Why did he love her so much that it hurt him? Why was it that of all the girls of either race he could fall in love with, why did it have to be his biggest enemy? Why did his body always say yes? Why did his mind always say yes? Why his _heart_ did never even thought to deny it? Why?

Why was he in love with Ichigo Momomiya so much?

He shook his head. His heart ached. He wanted, _needed_ for it to stop. He needed the pain to end. He needed to end the torture on his tattered heart and broken soul once and for all. He needed to quell the fire that was burning him alive.

Without a second thought, he slashed his wrist deep. Blood spurted everywhere as he gave a pained moan, tears finally falling freely from his broken eyes. His vision was going spotty as he transferred his weapon of choice into the other hand before slashing the other wrist as well, coating him and the world around him in his sickening crimson blood.

He slumped back roughly against the bark of the tree he sat in. The wind curled around him, holding him close as he closed his eyes. The leaves smoothed his leg, offering their condolences of his soon-to-be loss of life.

He cracked open his eyes again, leaning his head back so he could look up through the tree's uppermost branches. Blood continued to seep from his self-inflicted wounds as his vision blurred. He didn't care about any of it any more. He could just barely make out the stars of the night sky as he closed his eyes yet again.

Blood trickled down his arms, soaking into his shorts. It pooled onto his legs, sliding down the marble skin before tainting the tree he chose to die on. The blood trekked further downward; it curved around the branch before dropping to the grass below him.

Maybe some passer-by will notice an unusual patch of red grass after I'm gone? Maybe someone will find my body after all. Then again, they'll probably scream and run after seeing who I am… I'm sure everyone here knows who I truly am… A useless monster that deserves to die…

His body grew heavy; a numb sensation washed over him. He felt scared. He almost felt himself wishing he never gave into this. He almost wished he was too much of a coward to go through with this. Of all the things he had to regret in life, he _almost_ regretted taking his own life. But he didn't. He wasn't a coward. He knew as much as the next person he deserved to die. He was ready; whether he liked it or not.

He thought his ears were playing tricks on him, because as he was slipping into the deep oblivion abyss of eternal sleep, he could've sworn he heard voices, begging him not to go…


End file.
